Grace, Faith, and Hope
by Kath3rIne
Summary: I suck at writing previews. I'm sorry. Hope is half-human and half-demon. The good guys don't know what to do with her. Hell wants her. All they can do is keep her at arm's length- away from demons, but away from them too.No one wants another 'Ruby'
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! Thanks for looking up this story. . Um… openings are always hard to write. Well, tell me how you like it! I'd love any reviews!

Chapter 1

_October 1990_

Desmond paced nervously around the abandoned park, wringing his hands together.

This was the day. He was tired of being a bitch boy. He knew what he was doing. He wasn't piss poor Demon # 3. This was the day he was really going to earn his place with the Big Men in Hell. He grinned despite his nerves and again congratulated himself on making what had to be his big break. He had found the anti-Christ. If this wasn't going to win him respect, he didn't know what would. What would he have to do? Free Lucifer?

He looked around the deserted landscape. Should he try to summon Azazel again? Growling impatiently, he turned quickly to resume his pacing but stopped short when he spotted the man standing not three feet away from him.

"Azazel" he gasped, hardly believing he had come. Desmond quickly stood straighter and tried to appear cool and confident. "Glad you could make it," he said in what he hoped was an offhanded way.

Azazel seemed unimpressed. "I'm a busy guy. This better be important."

"Oh it is, it is," Desmond quickly assured him. 'Stay cool' he thought desperately to himself. He cleared his throat, "I found something you might like… someone. A girl. She's special."

Azazel rolled his eyes, sure that his time was being wasted but still enjoying watching this little weasel squirm. "What about her?" he asked her. The weasel licked his lips nervously. "She's special. Half and half- human mother, demon father."

This caught Azazel's attention. A half-demon child? Maybe his time wasn't being wasted afterall. Was this the child of the ancient prophesy? Desmond took his silence as encouragement and continued. "I haven't seen any powerful… powers," he stumbled lamely. "But there is potential! Its just untapped. And she's quick to anger, a petulant little brat; must take after Daddy," he laughed nervously.

Azazel was felt his initial excitement ebb away. If this were the child, the anti-Christ, its power would be unquestionable. And, of course, the kid would have been damn near impossible to find. This couldn't be the kid. Desmond's continued rambling was getting on his nerves. He sighed and lazily reached over and snapped his neck in one swift motion. "Idiot," he muttered, and turned to leave when a small figure in the distance caught his eye. It was a girl, but it wasn't her mere presence that caught his attention, it was the pull he felt towards her. This kid had demon blood in her, no doubt- Desmond's 'big' find.

She had on a backpack and held a lunchbox in one hand- obviously taking a short cut through the park on her way home from school. She was staring at him; her eyes were wide with terror. Obviously she had been watching for a while.

Azazel gave her the once over- she couldn't have been more than maybe 8 years old: too young to be walking alone, she must be a pretty independent, rebellious kid. But Azazel could sense she had a kind heart, too kind to be a demon. She obviously took after her mother. Maybe he should make a clean job of it and kill her quickly to. He took a step towards her, and she flinched but stood her ground. "Go away!!" she cried, in a voice that was too loud and forceful for such a little girl. She still looked terrified, but was going to stand her ground. "I'll… I'll bust your ass if you take another step!!" she yelled, obviously trying to intimidate him. It was almost funny. 'Kid's got spunk', he thought, bemused. 'But a little too big for her britches. I'll make it quick'. He tried to get closer to her, but couldn't move. What the Heaven? He looked down at his feet. He could move them, but they wouldn't go forward. The little brat was keeping him away; blocking him with her mind. 'Well, maybe Desmond was on to something.' He looked back up to the girl, committing her face to memory. Brown eyes, black hair, petite little thing, pale skinned. He'd keep an eye on her. He smiled at her (she flinched again) and vanished. 'Really,' he thought as he left, 'the kid _does _have potential.'

October 2009

Hope sat up quickly with a scream in her throat. Fortunately, she managed to stifle most of it.

Another nightmare. The same nightmare- a19 years old memory that won't quit. She admired its stamina.

Hope groaned a let herself fall back onto her pillow. 'Great' she thought, grumbling with frustration. 'And when we have company to,' she looked over to the wall she shared with her room mate, Angelica. Angie had brought another guy home last night- the muffled laughter, amongst other noises, had been unmistakable. He must be some guy, Hope thought. She had distinctly heard a spirited 'Yee-haw' at least once in the early morning hours. And what was his name? She had heard it more than once (the pillow wrapped around her head hadn't helped much). What was it… Dan, Dane? Dave?

Hope sighed and thunked her head against her headboard. 'I need coffee.'


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for looking this up. Please read and review

Chapter 2

It was supposed to have been her day off. _Supposed_ Hope thought bitterly as she put on her jacket and hunted down her shoes. She shouldn't have picked up her phone. She could have spent the morning leisurely drinking her coffee on the front porch, mercilessly cornering Angie's new bedmate into half an hour of awkward small talk before letting him ride of into the sunrise without leaving even a phone number (the MO of most of Angie's one-night stands). Well, at least she was escaping the inevitable 'Why-Do-Men-Always-Do-This-To-Me?' soap box later that morning.

Hope had a lot of love and appreciate for her friend, but was running out of patience for her doomed escapades with the male species.

Hope found her shoes in the bathroom and looked over herself in the mirror. She took a second to sigh and summon some calm before heading to work. She was being too harsh on Angie. And her job. And maybe even Cowboy Dan/Dean/Dave or Whatever (Angie's bedmate of the night, see Chapter 1).

She was too hard on everyone, but refused to believe she was hard on herself. She couldn't contain a massive eye roll when she recalled the latest forced therapy session…

"_Hope, look at me," Dr. Reynolds said. "How are you feeling?" he asked. _

_Hope continued to stare out the window, part of her crusade to studiously ignore the appointment in general. Dr. Reynolds is a kind, older man, and a friend of sorts. He doubled as the town doctor and owner of the tiny local library. She spent many afternoons in that library over summer breaks. She would bring ice cream or candy with her, and sit with him in his office, talking to him for hours about things going on in town- the gossip, her grades, the movies playing at the 2 screen theater. Hope loved this man like a Grandfather, but in the confines of his office- he was the enemy._

_Reynolds was not ignorant to any of this. He sighed and leaned forward- elbows on knees._

"_We made a deal remember?... I do. It was very unorthodox," he cleared his throat and looked down at his notes. "I would clear you for duty again, for crime scene photography _(a random job Hope had picked up to make ends meet in college. It was a small town, and there was no need for a full time staff photographer, so she was called in when needed)_, if you would open up some more to me-"_

"_I remember," Hope said quietly, being guilted into taking a more gentle approach in her defiance._

"_Good," Reynolds replied. He waited for Hope to continue. In vain._

"_Hope Constance Boehm!" he barked suddenly to catch her attention. He smiled with quiet pride inside when his patient jump a little in her seat, and continued in his initial, gentle approach. "I've known you since you were a kid. You practically grew up in my library," he chuckled._

_Hope felt a ghost of a smile on her face before she could cover it, and inwardly cursed herself. Reynolds hadn't missed it. Now he knew he had her._

"_Hope, I'm worried about you, dear. You've… changed these past couple months. I don't even know if its just grief anymore, or a total personality overhaul. If you can't talk to me as a doctor, talk to me as your friend," he said, finally forcing her into making eye contact._

"_Can you tell me about the night Jacob died?"_

Hope felt like thunking her head against something again, but instead looked herself over in the mirror. She pushed her long black hair back over her shoulders, and glared at the dark circles under her eyes. "Get it together, dude," she told herself.

"Sorry, I was trying to find my other sock-"

Hope's heart froze and jumped into her throat as she spun around the closest object at hand for a weapon; her target- a half dressed man in the hallway, his hands held up defensively.

They took half a second to give each other the once over- he was hot. He wasn't the tallest she had ever seen. Had green eyes and brown hair.

His assessment did not seem so flattering. He grinned and relaxed a bit. "That's a big bottle of soap for such a little girl."

She broke eye contact for a fraction of a second to look over her weapon. "Anti-bacterial Foam Hand Soap," she read as she gasped for breath. "Cranberry scented with antioxidants. The most deadly of all hygiene products."

The guy laughed and Hope, upon realizing this was Angie's cowboy, relaxed and smiled.

"I think I saw your sock in the uh, kitchen, of all places," she said scooting past him as she headed to the door.

"Kiss Amy goodbye before you leave!" she called to him over her shoulder as she went out the front door. Because there was no time for tortuous small talk, that was the best she could do.

She jumped off the porch and into her car just as her cell went off again. She put it on speaker as she turned on her car and started backing out of the driveway. "Yeah?" she called out to the person on the other line. She knew it was the sheriff- Greg Larson.

"We called you half an hour ago, are you on your way yet or what?" he asked.

"Pulling out now, hold up," she answered, taking care to navigate around a car half blocking her way to the street- a black classic chevy. She would have stopped to admire it, or key it for blocking her in if she had time, but she needed to get across town.

"So what have ya'll found so far? Mike said it was a double homicide. We don't get much of those around here…"

"We aren't sure yet."

"What do you mean you aren't sure?"

"We aren't sure… how many bodies… there are," he said quietly. Hope felt something like a mix of fear and alarm in her belly. "Huh?"

"There's just a lot of… everything..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That's why we need you here yesterday. We got to get this photographed so we can send it to the lab so they can sort it out."


	3. Chapter 3

So here it is- chapter 3. please, please, & please review! I appreciate all comments and criticisms on the story line or even writing style. I like it all, it helps me write.

p.s.- I should have mentioned this earlier- this story takes place in season 5. there may be references to certain episodes, but nothing too spoiler-ific. Thanks again for looking this story up

Chapter 3

In her first few minutes at the victim's house/crime scene, there wasn't much Hope could do but stare. She had seen a bunch of gory deaths lately- the county had been running crazy lately, but this was the worst yet. She just stood for a minutes, looking at the carnage in front of her. She couldn't make herself focus on the… details; but she couldn't look away either.

"Yea, it's pretty bad," Greg said, coming up behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Hope tried to discreetly shrug him off of her. She thought he was an OK guy, usually- but he had his creeper tendencies. She was less than flattered by his attention. "Time to get to work" she replied, trying to remain stoic and raising her camera.

"Don't work yourself too hard," he smiled and rubbed her back, *'I hate that', she thought*.

So she began to photograph, and let her mind work over the evidence. She wasn't paid to analyze the crime scene, and really had no special training for this job (again- it was a small town, they just made do with what they had) but working through some theories helped her note the most significant aspects of the scene.

'_More than two bodies. Too much blood. The killings took place here, but the heads and limbs are missing-_"

She paused in her work when she heard some commotion in the foyer.

"Hey hey hey! No one called in the feds!" she head Greg growl at some poor bastard out front.

"Yea, well we were in the area. We heard about the killings going on around town and came to look into it a little more closely."

That voice was familiar. 'Wasn't that-?' she looked over her shoulder to look over the new guys on the scene.

What the hell was Cowboy doing here?

He looked over the scene and met her eye. Apparently, he wasn't too happy when he noticed her.

'Huh. Right back at ya, Jerk.' She held up her camera and aimed at the two suits.

"Smile." _Click_. And she turned back to her work.

About an hour later, she felt a tap on her shoulder. The Cowboy.

"How's it going?" he asked, smiling.

Hope didn't feel the need to answer. She shrugged and looked around the room.

Cowboy cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted his weight. "Larson over there says you knew the um, supposed victim…?"

"In passing. She's a regular down at the diner; I pick up a few shifts there every once in a while." _Click click_. "Nice lady," she continued, figuring he'd want basic information. "Late sixties. Widowed and kids live out of town. Kind of a loner." _Click click_. "She loves boiled cabbage. I think that's very suspicious; I think you should note that."

Cowboy chuckled, but put away his notepad. "You almost done here?"

"Yep. So, will I be seeing you around tomorrow morning? Angie and I would appreciate pancakes if you're handy in the kitchen and wake up first."

"Um…"

Hope smiled. "Don't sweat it, Cowboy. And don't worry, I'm done rigging ya." It was true. After talking to him, she knew he and Angie had hooked up in purely casual terms. Ange wasn't going to get her heartbroken (again) over this guy. No hard feelings. She held out her hand and smiled. "Hope."

"Dean," he shook he hand.

"I'm all done here," she called over to Larson as she started to pack up. "See ya around, Dean."

She walked out, glad to be finished with her work. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the black classic Chevy parked across the street. There were two men already standing next to it, and must have been Dean's partners. Both were in suits, one was in a trench coat. Weird- because it was pretty warm and sunny out.

He looked over her way and caught her eye. The world froze.

For some reason, Hope had never been so scared in her life. It was like every nerve in her body, every instinct- they were all screaming at her to run away.

The man in the trench coat said something to his friend and made a quick step towards her.

That was it for Hope.

She turned and ran.


End file.
